


Library Woes

by bapofficial



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: ??????, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Library, Comedy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, i had to force myself to limit the angst there's barely anything there i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-16 16:51:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11832936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bapofficial/pseuds/bapofficial
Summary: Youngjae tries to revise. Daehyun makes it his life’s ambition to break every unspoken library rule possible.





	Library Woes

Sipping on his second coffee of the morning (iced, because the university’s main library won’t let them take hot drinks upstairs) (he’s not entirely sure it is coffee anyway, more of an unartistic mess of sugar and caramel and maybe the _tiniest_ bit of caffeine) (coffee is disgusting: all those lies about students growing to like it over time—)

Youngjae’s head falls to the desk and bounces off it a little too loudly. Cheeks hot, he keeps his eyes on his computer screen, holding his breath in the hopes that nobody around him tuts. It’s been a long morning, and Youngjae is already almost burnt out: he needs a break. He had to run here for 7 AM in the bitter cold darkness of January to snag his favourite computer seat, far from the social area and staircase, but not quite in the silent study section. He reckons it’s not too early for lunch.

Despite becoming familiar with the library from his first week of university, Youngjae still gets nervous at the prospect of leaving his space. If he had his life together, he could make his own lunch the night before and bring it, but he doesn’t trust his flatmates to not eat it before he can: they’re great, but they really have no sense of personal space, or cooking ability. Youngjae returns after a quick jog up to the students’ union — does the library cafe really think kids want to spend an entire pizza’s worth of money on a shoddy sandwich? — and sinks back onto his wobbly swivel chair, relieved that nobody has stolen his pencil case.

The guy next to him has finally come back. He first came an hour after Youngjae did, when half the seats were still empty, yet chose to sit right next to Youngjae. He’s been disappearing on and off, sometimes for ten minutes, sometimes for over an hour, and Youngjae can’t help but keep track of how long he’s gone, so he can rant at the guy in his head with proper facts. Each time he shuffles his textbook and notes around the desk, sometimes leaving a water bottle in the middle or an empty lunchbox.

Youngjae shakes his head to clear it and leans closer to his screen, but before he can check the word count for the thousandth time, a muffled laugh catches his attention. He glances over to the side in disapproval. The guy next to him is on Facebook, watching the same cat video on repeat. It’s not even that funny, Youngjae thinks bitterly, though perhaps stress has stripped him of his sense of humour. It’s exam season, for heaven’s sake! What is this absolute dumbass doing, hogging a precious seat in the library and not even working?

Fuming, Youngjae returns to his essay and rephrases his last sentence, then undoes it, and then changes it again. He’s barely done a quarter of his essay, and he really should do some more secondary reading before he gets ahead of himself, but something inside him eagerly wants to show the idiot next to him how a decent human acts in the comforting arms of university computers and soft lighting. He types more words over the next ten minutes than he did all morning — not loudly though, he’s not _that_ desperate — and even though most of it is a load of rubbish, it’s still something. Youngjae leans back and chews on his coffee straw smugly.

His pride only lasts so long though, because when he looks sideways, he sees that the kid is asleep. It’s not pretty: his arm is bent in an uncomfortable way, and his face is smushed against it so that his squashed cheek makes his lips jut out. Youngjae isn’t one to judge, but the guy looks like every late lecture-comer he’s ever seen: useless, boasts about having a hangover mid-week at 3pm, doesn’t do the reading and presumes Youngjae will just tell him what he’s missed, acts friendly until he gets what he wants, and then never talks to Youngjae again. Now Youngjae isn’t bitter, but people like that get on his nerves.

 _Jung Daehyun._ That’s what his Facebook says his name is. Youngjae does a quick search on his phone app to see if they have any mutual friends. They don’t. Good. Daehyun’s profile picture is of him laughing obnoxiously in the sun; Youngjae throws his phone back into his bag and goes on a rigorous hunt for secondary material for his essay. He doesn’t have time for stupid people having actual fun with their lives. He has modules to ace.

It’s even harder to get himself out of bed the next day. Half asleep, he turns off his alarm and checks Facebook. Immediately, Daehyun’s profile picture pops up from where he left it yesterday. The like button is blue. That wakes Youngjae up right away. He unlikes it as quickly as he can, but the damage has been done. When did he do it? Yesterday? A couple of minutes ago? Some time last night as he used his phone light to patter safely to the toilet?

It’s fine. It’s fine, Youngjae tells himself. It’s not like he’s ever going to see the guy again. He already has plenty of likes — social butterfly, Youngjae notes with a scoff — so he won’t notice another. Youngjae throws his things into his bag with a little more aggression than necessary, and leaves his room in a hurry.

The snow has picked up since last night, and it flurries around Youngjae almost mockingly, laughing at him for having deadlines next week. He trudges determinedly through gritty slush, making a mental plan of what he needs to get done today. If he can just finish his essay by the end of the weekend, then he’ll have a whole week to revise before his first exam, and be able to proofread it without having each of the three thousand words etched into his memory.

That’s easier said than done though, because half an hour after he starts working, someone pulls back the seat next to him and sits in it. Youngjae stares at his notes, not sparing the person a glimpse, but a light laugh confirms his worst suspicions. Youngjae peers over: that guy Daehyun is reading the messages in a group chat. Each new message is the same _we’re all in this together_ gif, with the odd crying face sprinkled in between. Everyone on his entire course must be joining in, because it’s still going when Daehyun’s snort three minutes later gets Youngjae’s attention again.

Ridiculous. This guy is a joke. Youngjae huffs audibly enough for him to hear, but it falls on deaf ears: Daehyun has his earphones in, watching an _r.i.p. vine compilation 13_ on his phone. At least he has the decency to use earphones, Youngjae reckons; judging from what he’s had the misfortune to see of the guy so far, that’s probably an achievement.

Youngjae measures time with Daehyun’s abrupt guffaws, which probably isn’t the best way to do it. By the time Daehyun finally has had enough after his seventh fifteen-minute video — not that Youngjae has been checking, of course — Youngjae has only written a further forty-three words. Silently groaning, Youngjae rubs at his temple. A smell reaches his nose.

Cautiously, Youngjae peers to his side again. Daehyun is opening a lunchbox of pasta, but Youngjae spies copious amounts tuna and onion and cheese inside, and the stench of garlic is unmistakeable. The idiot can’t be serious, surely. This must be some sort of prank to see the effects of exam stress on students, because Youngjae is going to crack soon. Maybe it’s part of those experiments PhD students think they have the right to constantly email him about. Daehyun is the rare person who agrees to waste his time for a tenner, tasked with annoying poor suffering kids on campus, and Youngjae is his unlucky test subject who hasn’t eaten a thing since dinner last night.

Youngjae’s stomach grumbles loudly. Daehyun notices.

He grins. “You hungry?”

Aghast, Youngjae stares: the guy actually _spoke_ to him, a complete stranger? He shrugs.

Daehyun’s grin widens and the skin around his eyes crinkles. It’s stupid. “I have a spare fork, if you want some,” he offers. When Youngjae protests, he insistently thrusts the fork into Youngjae’s hand. “Don’t worry, I came prepared,” he says, rattling a box of mints on the desk. He taps his nose with his forefinger and giggles. _Giggles._ “Nobody needs to know.”

“I think the entire library knows anyway, with that smell,” Youngjae blurts. It was meant to sound judgemental and unsympathetic, but his voice has become clogged and rusty from disuse, and he sputters the words out pathetically.

“Better get rid of the evidence quickly, then.”

Without waiting for Youngjae’s response, Daehyun digs in, dispelling any worries about it being poisoned. Why the guy would offer a stranger his own food is past Youngjae, but the pleading from his stomach is becoming more difficult with each forkful Daehyun shoves into his mouth, complete with excessive moans and expressions of bliss.

Tentatively, Youngjae leans over the desk and takes some pasta. It’s surprisingly good, despite being laced with the guilt that even the entire box of mints won’t stop his breath from smelling. Hell, it’s really good. He drags his chair closer and takes another bite. If Daehyun is going to constantly distract him and piss him off, then the least Youngjae can do is eat as much as he can and make Daehyun regret one of his many bad decisions.

It’s devoured within minutes. Daehyun looks at him in amusement, a disconcerting sparkle in his eyes.

“Did you like it?” Daehyun asks, looking irritatingly smug.

Youngjae shrugs again. “Eh, it was ok. Thanks...”

“You know my name,” Daehyun says with a smirk.

Youngjae freezes. “What?”

“Youngjae, right?” Daehyun asks, taking Youngjae’s mortified silence as a confirmation. “You liked my profile picture. Cute.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” Daehyun’s humour is asking to be smacked off his face. “You should probably update yours. It’s been the same for the last two and a half years.”

“Well I’m sorry, but unlike you, I don’t have time to waste on social media. I actually want to pass this semester, thank you very much.” And with that, Youngjae dramatically turns back to his screen to stare forlornly at the stationary word count for the next twenty minutes, belatedly realising he forgot to ask for a mint. He feels the tiniest bit sorry when Daehyun quietly puts the lunchbox away and shuffles his notes about, but after all, Daehyun deserves it.

It’s pretty useful that when he returns from the toilet, Daehyun is gone. His things are still there though, and the box of mints is right there on the desk, perhaps a little closer to Youngjae’s side than before. Whatever. Youngjae takes five before going down for a fake coffee.

The next morning, Daehyun says hello as he takes the seat next to Youngjae. Youngjae grunts a reply. He’s actually done quite a bit of work in the hour and three minutes he’s been here, but he still can’t afford to slack off. Although Daehyun technically isn’t doing anything to incense Youngjae, he’s not doing anything at all, and that in itself is irritating. Youngjae needs a solid reason to be annoyed at him, though; there are still free seats around at this early hour, so he can’t focus too much on the guy hogging a seat and not doing anything productive.

“Hello?”

Youngjae whips his head around. His jaw drops: Daehyun is on the phone with his feet up on the desk.

“I’m in the library,” Daehyun says with a chortle, and then repeats himself louder. “I’m in the library! Yeah I know, me!” He laughs again.

Youngjae doesn’t have the self-restraint to pretend he isn’t glaring at him. This can’t be real.

“Don’t worry, Mum, I’m almost finished my essay. Just got one exam next week and then I’m done. How’s Dad?”

Surely not. This complete arse can’t really be having a loud chinwag with his _mother_ at half-eight in the morning in the flipping _library._ A _week_ before exams. Youngjae rubs his eyes. Is he still asleep? Nope, definitely awake.

“— and then she gave me the rest of the pizza box, just like that! There were still five slices, so I had my dinner and breakfast sorted in one —”

Youngjae stands up and grabs his wallet. He needs a break, not the full backstory of this guy’s life. He skips the students’ union shop for a local supermarket this time, and takes his time sauntering back. Nobody would go near his desk with Daehyun screaming at the top of his voice like that.

Daehyun isn’t on the phone when he gets back. He’s typing something on the computer that vaguely resembles an essay. No way.

“You’re actually working?” Youngjae can’t help asking.

Daehyun starts and looks up with wide eyes. “Oh — yeah,” he says, uncharacteristically sheepishly.

Leaning over the desk, Youngjae looks closer. “Discuss the role of gardens and nature in — you do literature?” He’s surprised: Daehyun doesn’t look the type. He gives off vibes of only being at university to do business or something to stop his parents nagging at him.

“Yeah,” Daehyun mumbles. “And theatre. Joint.”

Youngjae sits back down and takes his breakfast out from the carrier bag. “Is that why you hardly have any work?”

Daehyun frowns. It’s nice, Youngjae thinks. Less annoying than when he’s pleased with himself.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know —”

“Save the lecture, I’ve had enough of those,” Youngjae says airily. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.” He pauses. “As in, working. What you were doing right now, not what you’ve been doing the last few —”

Daehyun reaches over and takes Youngjae’s packet of crisps.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Shrugging, Daehyun opens the packet and shoves a handful of the largest crisps straight into his mouth, crunching on them loudly. Youngjae winces at the sound, and again when Daehyun wipes his hands on his jeans.

“Thanks,” Daehyun says as he passes the packet back to Youngjae with a sloppy smile.

Youngjae stares at him: this guy comes into to _his_ house and eats _his_ food, as if everything he’d already done wasn’t enough? “You —” he begins, but Daehyun is already occupied with something else.

“Solitaire’s actually really fun, who knew?” Daehyun says distractedly, forefinger rapidly tapping his phone screen. “Stressful, yeah, but it’s worth it.”

Stressful? _Stressful?_ Does this guy even know what stress is? Daehyun is the personification of stress for Youngjae. Manically trying to ignore the unwanted sound effects from Daehyun’s mouth, Youngjae powers on with his essay. Powers on as in repeats the same point again, laments his imminent failure, and wonders where he went wrong in his life to deserve such misfortune childishly playing games next to him.

The next morning, Youngjae tries to write as much as he physically can before Daehyun arrives. Only Daehyun doesn’t arrive. Awesome, great. No headaches today. By nine o’clock, Youngjae gets fidgety. He’s never normally this late. Somebody else sits in the seat next to Youngjae as the library fills up. Should he have saved the seat for Daehyun? No, that would be a terrible thing to do in mid-January. He can’t believe he just debated breaking library etiquette like that: Daehyun has had an awful impact on him. First come first serve. And why is that a loss anyway? Youngjae can now finish his essay in peace.

But he grows increasingly agitated as the morning fades into a dull, cloudy afternoon. Did he offend Daehyun? _So what?_ Youngjae tells himself. Daehyun has been putting Youngjae off his work for long enough. If Youngjae has pissed him off in return somehow, well, he had it coming.

Youngjae leaves the library earlier than usual that evening, figuring he may as well have time to unwind and actually get seven hours of sleep for one day. Of course, he forgets how loud his flatmates can be when some kind soul amongst them decides that today is pizza day. Junhong and sugar should not go together. Youngjae wakes up feeling like death.

“Did you miss me that much?”

Startled, Youngjae spins around to be met with Daehyun’s grin; it’s more annoying than before, if that’s even possible.

“What?” Youngjae says dazedly. He’s too tired for this. Sleeping early was a fool’s mistake. Sleep is for the weak.

“You only did two hundred words in a whole day?” Daehyun says, tutting, before jumping a little too enthusiastically into his usual seat. “Poor performance. I expected better from you.”

“Where were you?” Youngjae asks. “Did you find a more entertaining hobby than making me fail my modules?”

“Making you fail?” Daehyun asks quizzically. “I’m not distracting you, am I?”

Youngjae stares at him.

“Well, I’m minding my own business most of the time,” Daehyun tries to reason. “You could just move, you know. Why sit here every day when you know I’ll come?”

“It’s annoying when you don’t work.” Youngjae breaks eye contact.

“I finished my essay yesterday. What are you watching me for? Do your own work.”

Youngjae blushes. “I’m not. It just stresses me out. Someone else deserves that seat more than you do.”

Daehyun raises his eyebrows. “Someone else should get their ass out of bed earlier then.”

“Seriously though,” Youngjae continues, “what’s the point in spending your day here if you’re not revising? Just chill at home.”

“It’s boring at home,” Daehyun says with a pout. A _pout,_ what the _hell._ “My flatmates suck.”

“Why, aren’t they nice?”

Daehyun looks at him curiously. “I don’t know. They don’t talk to me much. They’re all friends with each other though. I hate staying at home, it feels lonely.”

Oh. Youngjae feels a little bit bad. He’s more surprised at how quickly Daehyun opened up. “So you come here to hang out instead?”

Daehyun nods. “At least most people here come by themselves. I get most of my work done in my room, if you were wondering how I’ve not been kicked out of uni. It’s quieter there.”

“Right,” Youngjae says slowly. He can’t respond with a biting remark, that’d be rude. He doesn’t really know what to do, now Daehyun is actually being genuinely… decent?

“Sorry,” Daehyun says bashfully, lowering his eyes. “I’m being annoying. You… carry on working, sorry.” He looks vulnerable like that, ears red and his mouth being pulled back into a straight line.

“Do you have any more of that tuna pasta?” Youngjae blurts. “But without the garlic. Maybe a little less onion.”

“What?” Daehyun asks, puzzled.

“Erm, it was good. You’re a good cook,” Youngjae says. _Stupid Youngjae stupid stupid —_

“Thanks,” Daehyun says with a small smile. “But I don’t have any food today, actually. An abomination, I know.”

Right. “Uh, you wanna go get some food later?” That sounds too desperate, too nice. “Or I mean I wouldn’t complain if you make more of that stuff. Everyone in my flat sucks at cooking. They’d probably appreciate a human meal too.”

“Are you inviting me over on the condition I feed you and your flat with my own blood and sweat?” Daehyun asks bemusedly.

“What, no —” Youngjae protests. Well. “Yeah. I don’t know. If you want. I’ll introduce you to them, they’re nice.”

Daehyun gives him a knowing look. “Ok, if you buy the ingredients.” He logs onto his computer. “Thanks,” he adds as an afterthought.

“I will,” Youngjae says. “We have a spare room. One of the guys went abroad for this semester. There’s only five of us now. If you impress them, they might take you on. If you want, that is.”

Nodding slowly, Daehyun breaks into another smile. “You realise you just offered a stranger who you claim is irritating to move into your flat?”

“Well, it’s you or a stranger who might not know how to cook,” Youngjae says, eyes fixed on his screen.

There’s a sudden loud sob. Bewildered, Youngjae turns to Daehyun, whose face is covered with one hand.

“You only love me for my food,” he cries, wiping away at non-existent tears.

Youngjae sighs exasperatedly.

Daehyun laughs. “Seriously, thanks. I’m not going to cook for you again though, just so you know. Not for free, anyway.”

“I was just joking, don’t worry,” Youngjae says lightly.

“Who are you and what have you done with Yoo Youngjae?” Daehyun asks in a reporter-like voice, extending his water bottle to Youngjae’s mouth like a microphone.

“Just,” Youngjae exclaims, swatting Daehyun’s hand away, “promise you’ll do some work now. Please. Annoy me all you like after exams.”

Daehyun sits back, evidently pleased with himself. “If you insist.”

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh this was a spur of the moment thing inspired by [this](http://bapofficial.tumblr.com/post/163983021795) (can you tell I miss uni) (also wow even I wanted to smack dae) (apart from when he got annoyed about jae saying lit students don't do anything dhgfdh u better shut ur mouth youngjae)
> 
> thank you [vanillajae](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillajae) for talking this through with me!
> 
> [tumblr](http://bapofficial.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/yeahbap)


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